Hell-bound
by demena4president
Summary: I'm sorry, I really am. But that won't change what happened that night. It's too hard to think about. I hate myself. Then you come in the picture and now everything's spiraling down. Two-shot


**Quick idea to make up for the lack thereof for my other story (Two World's Collide) :3 Sorry it's taking so long you guys, hopefully this twoshot will get the ideas flowing. **

I promise, it was an accident. Even if that doesn't make me feel any better about myself, it was completely unexpected. I'll regret it forever.

Despite that, it won't change anything. I can be sorrier than any human being on earth, but it would've still happened. The night would have still gone on piece by piece, just as it had. I don't feel worthy to be on the planet any more.

I hate myself for that night. I force myself to eat and sleep, but I can feel my body slowly shutting down. Maybe it regrets everything just as much as I do. Maybe it's ready to give up, too.

So here I am, sitting in a dark, gloomy bar. I have my drink in my hand, and I sip it occasionally, like one would sip a hot tea or a coffee. Normally I would be drunk right now, but something told me that I should be careful. I had nothing better to do but listen to tired grudges, so I sat back and only took a small gulp every now and then.

My house is only a couple blocks from this building, which makes it easy to get to when I need to forget the world for a while. But nothing, not even alcohol, can make me forget the sound of screeching and shattering and a high pitched scream that pierced straight through the blackness of the night.

I shudder on the stool, close my eyes, and breathe deeply, trying to erase the memory. When I next open my eyes, there's a woman sitting next to me, ordering an ice water.

Trying to distract myself, I look closely at her, trying to determine why she's here. Her eyes are red, and she's holding a ring box. A leather jacket is wrapped tightly against her body, showing off her curves. Her hair is curled, but a little messy, which gives me the idea she's been riding a motorcycle. She's wearing expensive earrings, but everything else seems rather ordinary, so she either has a wealthy family or boyfriend, but she lives on her own and pays for her own clothing. The earrings must have been a gift.

"Can I help you?"

I'm jerked from my musing by a soft voice and inquiring eyes. The woman has turned, and a soft smirk is playing at her lips.

"Sorry, I don't think anyone can help me," I answer honestly, still looking her over. Her hands are clasped tightly—a sign of anxiousness, nervousness, embarrassment, or possibly all three…? She's set the ring box on the counter as far away as she can without it being mistaken for someone else's. This means she probably doesn't want to look at it. Did she propose and get rejected? Was it another expensive gift? If so, who was it from?

"There's always someone to help."

She tossed her brown hair over her shoulder. I met her chocolate gaze. "Not if you're going to Hell."

This didn't seem to faze her. Instead of making a snappy remark, she held out a hand. "I'm Alex. It's nice to meet someone like me."

"Someone like you?" She had caught _me _off guard. That usually never happens.

"We're both Hell-bound," Alex said this with a wry smile.

Her ice water came, and she gripped the glass with both hands. There were still black smudges on her cheeks from ruined mascara, but I didn't bother pointing it out. It gave her a more human look. She had obviously been crying.

The hard look in her eyes didn't match her fragile smiles. My gaze travelled south. I was surprised to see she was wearing a dress under the leather jacket, and the bottom half that went down to her knees had strange dust smudges on it, but that could've been from the motorcycle ride. The shoes she was wearing were strangely nice, too—like dress shoes. Either she had strange taste or…

A light bulb went off.

Alex had been in a hurry.

I played out all the scenarios in my head, and I finally figured it out. What had happened.

"Who was it?"

She looked put out at the sudden question. "What?"

"Who did you reject?"

"Oh. That."

The brunette set down her water, then thought for a second. She didn't seem too surprised that I had figured everything out, but she was probably still struggling with her emotions when it came to what went down. Something about her… I was genuinely interested to know. Usually I come to the bar to feel like I'm not a part of the world, but now here I am, trying to get to know a complete stranger.

Well, a really pretty stranger. Something about her reminds me of my sister, who's far away, fighting for the country. I think it's that independent air around her.

Alex sighed. "What is there to explain? I was about to break up with him, and then he shoved the box in my hand and told me to open it. When I saw the ring… I knew exactly what he was thinking, and I couldn't do it. So I…I said no and I left. I don't really think it that big of a deal, though. I needed to get rid of him as soon as possible anyway."

I nodded slowly, but something still didn't add up. "If you're so happy you got rid of him, then why were you crying?"

For the first time in our conversation, her eyes glinted with untold pain. Then they were unreadable again. She obviously wasn't going to tell me.

"It's not important," she said in a hoarse voice, apparently choking back more tears. "It's just…"

Maybe she _was _going to tell me. "It's just…what?"

"He was the last thing I had to remind me of my brother."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a battered photograph. Handling it carefully, she turned so I could see.

The face.

That face.

My mind flashed back to bright lights and wailing sirens. I got up without a word and walked out of the bar, the flashbacks tearing at me like dull blades.

I'm Mitchie Torres, and that photo reminded me of everything. Everything I try to forget.

No matter how much I try and fight it… no matter how many lives I save…

I'm Hell-bound.


End file.
